It's incredibly easy for us to forget that we are not our jobs, our commitments, our to-do lists. Even for those of us lucky enough to do creative work for a living (and I am very aware of how fortunate I am in my work) rarely remember who we are. Or were. I think it's only when we create for ourselves, for our private selves, that we tap into the current of our own inherent ability to channel...something.
When we pick up hand work--whether gardening, knitting, whittling, writing longhand, building, carving, kneading, or sewing--we enter the slipstream of our ancestry, and there's something concrete there, something reassuring. It reminds us that we have at our fingertips (quite literally in this case) a wealth of knowledge beyond any book, any tutorial. These ghosts are our teachers, and they remind us that we are more human than machine.
Machines aren't meant for the long haul, for this long life. They are not self-regenerating, and they are not built with keen intelligence and d...
It's a ridiculous understatement to say it's hard when people die. But sometimes the drastic understatement is the only way to state anything of truth about something as large and as complex as the organic structure of mourning. So I won't try. This post isn't about death, anyway.
What I will say is that death is inevitable. It will happen, so spending any more time lamenting that simple truth is a waste. What *is* remarkable and amazing and miraculous is that we're even here, period. And I do believe we chose this time, this place, these struggles, these joys. I really do.
I have no proof of this, of course, but I do know this: we must have been (must *be*) strong as hell to have chosen this place. We must have been so sure of our clear sight, our vision, our mission, our ability to handle, well, ANYTHING, that we went ahead and signed up. We got in line, grabbed our glittery rainbow parachutes and took a running leap out of whatever Nirvana-incarnation we were lounging in....
I know how hard it is, some days, to get out of bed. I know how hard it is, some days, to find the point, to find the floor, to find the clothing in which to dress this poor animal in for another day.
But think of it this way. We need you. We need your talents, your gifts, your unique battles and victories. This is why you're here. You're a warrior. Maybe you're a peaceful warrior, a brainy warrior, a crafty warrior, a warrior-artist.
Define yourself. Be grand.
Then get up.
Dress for the part.
Be here. Be wild. Become the force you were born to become.
I read this great article recently by Gregg Krech about action and resolution. The mind will always, always throw up roadblocks. That's what it does. But the body? The body can just *get up* and go do something, taking the mind along for the ride.
Right? Think of the middle of the night. You wake up and have to go to the bathroom. Your strange sleep-mind pitches all kinds of scenarios and alternatives, but eventually you realize that it's all madness; you *have* to get up. When you get back to bed, a few minutes later, your mind realizes it really wasn't worth all that creative effort.
Life is like that. We don't have to know how or why. Our body knows. That's enough.
For me, the battle against anxiety and depression, tension and resistance had ruled my life for years.
But then I realized I was thinking of it the wrong way. Why is it a battle? Why was I focusing on that battle? What if I focused on everything around that battle? What if I quieted that struggle by heightening the peace that inevitably came between each dissonant sound?
And it works. It works. But, here's what happens: usually, we have moments of absolute clarity and feel as though we’ve conquered our demons, but then, right around days 3-5 (ish), they come roaring back, fiercer than ever.
This is tension. This is resistance. This is what happens when we resist the moment we’re in. We get anxious. We feel as though there’s a rift between where we are and where we want to be.
One of the first tools at our disposal is relaxation. I know—it’s hard; it takes time to learn to relax.
The key—NOT JUDGING yourself for how you feel. As soon as the tension creeps in, move...
Most of the time, I feel pretty broken, disjointed, held together with chewing-gum and old Christmas ribbons. But I wonder if that's just the way of it? Our world now is much the same--glossed over with this very visible plastic-y sealant via social media.
(But don't let yourself be fooled into thinking that kind of glossiness only exists in our time--think back to the 1950's ideal-housewife-family scenario...that was Facebook live).
But! To the point. So, are these cracks worth plastering over? Shouldn't we just highlight them? Show them off to the world?
Or just crumble, erode away and wait for the weather to shift and for a new structure to emerge?